


Love Potion No. 116(a) – Garrosh/Varian

by ausmac



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 20:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11169345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: More goblin mistakes and Garrosh finds himself attracted to a certain ugly human.





	Love Potion No. 116(a) – Garrosh/Varian

_Whenever talks took place in Dalaran between the Horde and the Alliance,_ _Rommlie was guaranteed a regular income providing relief from the stress headaches those talks created.  Being a problem of the brain, it wasn’t something healers had too much success with, and the goblin alchemist took full advantage of it.  So when Garrosh Hellscream ordered a batch of it in preparation for the upcoming talks, Rommlie was happy to oblige.  Problem was, there were a lot of orders for it, and half his staff was off doing other batches and, well, haste doesn’t only make waste, it also makes mistakes….._

Trying to hold any sort of discussion with Varian Wrynn was like having a tusk pulled; painful, drawn out and you had to cope with a big jerk.  The whole thing always left Garrosh with a thumping headache.  That was mostly due to enforced restraint, since after only five minutes into the talks he had to fight a desire to rip the human’s face off. 

The talks broke for lunch and Garrosh wiped a hand across his nostrils and sniffed.  “Waste of time,” he muttered, rubbing his neck and rotating his shoulders, trying to dislodge the stiffness.

“Yes it is.  Why did you even bother coming?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked up in mid-twist.  He’d forgotten that Wrynn spoke Orcish.  They were the only two left in the room; the rest of both parties had bolted the moment the call was made to close the session.  Probably all headed for their respective taverns to drink away their miseries.

And drink reminded him of the little potion bottle in his pocket.  “I came because I hope you humans would say a few words other than the normal drivel you speak.  I should have known all you’d do is give me another headache. “  As he uncorked the flask he saw the High King pull a similar bottle from his belt purse – he apparently had his own discomfits, which gave Garrosh a small amount of satisfaction.

He tossed the potion down in one gulp, wiped his mouth and stood, meaning to toss a final insult or two at the High King before leaving but when he looked across the table he was hit a jolt of sensation that was so overwhelming, he thought he’d been struck by some sort of magical attack.  Shaken, not sure whether to be angry or alarmed at the idea of the Dalaran accords being broken, he began to roar a challenge which mutated into a choked off moan.

Because the sensation was lust and…something vilely disgusting.  Something that put a sickeningly sweet taste in his mouth, that made his face twist into … horror of horrors…a smile.  He thought it might be desire, but in a nice way.  Which was really disgusting.

“Varian…”  That didn’t sound like him.  It sounded like some lovesick pup, but he couldn’t seem to help himself, couldn’t stop the undeniable affect that exquisite… _what!_...human had on him. 

In the throes of what, for Garrosh, passed for romantic lust, he pulled at his belt and the leggings dropped around his knees as he shuffled forward.  “I want you, you vile creature!  I order…that is...Great hairy gods, I must be mad…”

The look of horror or disgust that had been forming on the man’s face suddenly vanished, replaced by a look he’d never, in his worst nightmares, expected to see on that man’s face.  The small, glassy blue eyes were shining, but not with their usual manic violence – it was hunger, and his own hand was reaching down to his strapping.  “Garrosh..” the deep, luscious voice grated as he ground his teeth together in unwilling desire.  “Get the fuck over here and…oomph!”

In his haste to do just that, Garrosh tripped on his pants, staggered forward and landed on top of Varian, who was equally unbalanced and fell backwards, with the Warchief landing on top of him.  That was enough to make anyone breathless.

They were rolling around, fighting to be on top – because someone had to poke someone and each of them wanted to be that someone – when the door flew open and voices shouted in alarm and in various tongues.  They were dragged apart and Garrosh found himself being pulled from the Object of His Desire and out of the room by an astonished and obviously disgusted group of orcs.

Whatever had been done to him took some time to wear off.  He spent that time getting thoroughly drunk and threw himself onto his bed to sleep off the effects of both.  His dreams were very peculiar and involved him and Varian and there was a lot of slapping and panting and he woke up the next morning with an uncomfortable erection, to find the headache had returned with a vengeance.

 _Nothing a decent war or two won’t fix –_ and that was the end of those peace talks because he wasn’t prepared to face the High King in case those disgusting, fascinating feelings returned.  But despite all his best efforts, now and then he’d think of Varian and wonder just what it might have been like to indulge in some poking…..

 


End file.
